Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 26623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26623 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 133(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 89(@300wpm)
"Tanya, for the last fucking time no, I don't want to fucking hear it, it's done, never to be revisited, so stop trying." His voice reached me in the laundry room where I’d been standing in front of the washer daydreaming again.
I shook myself and thought, uh oh the witch is at it again. She ought to be ashamed of herself, the way she throws herself at him after the fact. I mean really, how stupid can you be?
You screw around on your husband of ten years, a husband who by all accounts including your own was great to you, took care of you and your kids like royalty and you expect him to do what when he finds out?
I really shouldn’t be listening in, but I couldn’t help it. Besides, they were being loud, which was good for me because I need to know if he ever changes his mind about taking her back.
The thought makes my stomach churn. I hope not. I’d rather he chose me, but since that’s not happening, I’d almost wish he’d choose anyone else but her.
She wasn’t exactly nice when they were married and I always wondered why he’d been with her. Of course they say opposites attract. But she was so opposite as to be a different species.
Now with the divorce final she’s been hounding him, begging him to take her back. Sometimes I just want to pop her one, but again, I have that lack of boldness issue.
I guess she was finally realizing that it wasn’t going to happen because I could hear her tearing into him, and sweetheart that he is, he was just listening to her rip into him.
I wonder what he ever saw in her. Maybe at one point she was actually something to look at, but you couldn’t tell it by looking at her now.
Maybe the local gossip brigade was right and she’d lost her looks from being so damn evil. Or maybe without his money she could no longer afford to hit the salon on a weekly basis to keep herself together.
As a female I should have more empathy for her, but not after the nasty shit she’d done. Women like her make it hard for other females if you ask me. They never appreciate a good thing until it’s gone.
My chest burned with all the things I wished I could walk in there and say to her in defense of him, but it wasn’t my place, and again, I had that issue.
I gloated just a little at her predicament when I remembered how she’d treated me, like I was somehow beneath her. Like she’d forgotten that he’d elevated her status too.
Everyone knew the story of the local girl made good. How he’d dated her since high school and when he made it big had come back for her.
They lived in the biggest house in town, drove the fanciest cars, even fancier than their neighbors’ in the swanky community they lived in.
For years she’d been the envy of all who knew her and she’d ridden that wave through two pregnancies, millions of dollars worth of jewelry, and all the luxury a doting husband of means could provide.
She’d lost everything now though, because she apparently couldn’t resist a hanging dick. Now she was back here constantly trying to regain what she’d so callously thrown away.
I always knew she was a stupid shit, but damn not that stupid. The divorce has been final for a few weeks now and she had turned up the heat. I wonder what made her think he would take her back after all this time.
"Gage you have to give me a chance; think about the children."
"Why don't you think about them and get the hell out of here before the school bus shows up?" Oh he sounded pissed.
"They're still my kids Gage, I have the right to see them." I could just imagine her face as she says that. That’s always her trump card, the children. Somehow I was always hoping it didn’t work.
"Not according to the judge, and not according to them. They don't want to see you anymore than I do. So please vacate my premises before I have you physically removed."
"How dare you? Those are my kids, you...you, fucking bastard." Oh crap, she’s in one of those moods. Maybe I should hide out upstairs or in the basement.
But when she gets like this I’m afraid to even make a move lest she hears me and goes off. For some reason the sight of me in her old home sends her into a tizzy, even though she’s the one who’d hired me originally. I confess to not giving a shit one way or the other.
"Are you drunk, what the fuck? You came to see my kids fucking blitzed? Get the fuck outta here. You know, I was willing to throw you a bone but this is the last fucking straw. Not my babies, you do not get to fuck with their lives anymore than you already have."